


can you come on back

by hopeyoustay



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: A lot of them - Freeform, Angst with a Happy Ending, Byleth Has No Pulse, Feral Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Blue Lions Route, Guilt, He Gets Somewhat Better, Hearing Voices, It Freaks Dimitri Out, M/M, Major Character Injury, Mental Instability, Mentioned Dedue Molinaro, My Unit | Byleth Has Emotions, One Shot, Post-Time Skip, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-01
Updated: 2019-10-01
Packaged: 2020-11-08 20:16:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20841386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hopeyoustay/pseuds/hopeyoustay
Summary: Byleth tries to protect Dimitri in battle, but it's all in vain when he ends up with a lance in his gut. Dimitri finds him face down in the mud, half-dead with no pulse, and has to deal with the guilt and emotions that ensue. He's nothing more than a beast, though, and has no need for love or friendship.Right?





	can you come on back

_What would you do_

_if I died_

_before you?_

_..._

Byleth couldn't keep up with him, watching him move in a flurry of blue and black. Gone were the graceful movements of his youth; now Dimitri snarled and charged his way through the battle, stabbing anything that was an enemy through with a swift pierce of his lance. He twisted it as he brought it out, making the soldiers cry out in pain as the fell. Byleth was already running behind him, using magic to fend off anyone looking for a lucky shot. The attacks were normal by now; the monastery was a goldmine for bandits seeking shelter, and now that his students and the Knights of Seiros have returned, it was their job to protect what had once been the holiest place in all of Fódlan. This time, however, had been a surprise. They had attacked before the sun even rose, the edges of light now coming over the horizon. Rain pounded down around them as they fought, and only the battle cries of his students let Byleth know they were alive. 

He saw the axe before Dimitri did, the Wyvern Rider too far out of his range to be hit by a bow in this rain and scarce light. His magic was exhausted; his fingertips ached and he could feel his core telling him to slow down before he stopped altogether. If he had a heartbeat, it'd be hammering, he imagined. Still, Byleth let Thoron crackle to life beneath his fingertips, the magic forced and biting at his skin like a whip. He could already see the shadowy veins of lightning creeping up his arm, signs of a spell used far too long. Still, the wyvern fell with its rider and Dimitri was safe once more. The prince hadn't even noticed, his tunnel vision limiting him only to the bloodbath that awaited him as he trudged forward into the thick of their enemies. Byleth used a steel sword, hacking and clawing his way forward as well, hearing Sylvain and Felix some distance away to his right. They were bickering, which meant things couldn't be going too poorly for them. 

"Out of my way!" He heard Dimitri roar as he cut down an archer, heading for the leader of the troops who cowered behind the few armored units he had.

Byleth forced harsh breaths out of his lungs, raising his hand and mustering up what little faith magic he had left to heal a bit of the nasty wound along Dimitri's side before the prince could dive into another battle. He got no response that he could hear, the sounds of battle drowning everything out. Green hair was plastered to his face, water and sweat mixing, blood leaking from his nose in a slow drip. He'd used Divine Pulse too much, used his magic too much, but he forced the aching headache away. Dimitri wouldn't die while Byleth was standing.

He twisted away from the sword aimed at his chest, quickly switching to his minibow and launching an arrow straight into the Bandit's eye. He turned to see Dimitri defeat another lance user cleanly before turning to the now exposed leader, who trembled before the beastly prince. Byleth moved to step forward, to stop him from being overly brutal as he always was when he took on enemy commanders, but his feet were so heavy. He saw the lance coming towards him, but couldn't stop it. He raised his arms feebly, but the blade merely sliced through the side of his hand and straight into his stomach, clean through his Swordmaster's robes. He heard the choked noise he made, tasted the blood he coughed up and the blood that still dripped continuously from his nose. He fell forward, landing in the bloodsoaked mud as the enemy yanked the lance from his stomach and went looking for another victim. He couldn't scream for help, and as he tried to get to his knees, he only fell once again. He welcomed the darkness of the ground as his eyes slipped shut.

Would Dimitri mourn him? Or would he be just another ghost, egging the one he loved down a path to ruin?

_..._

The enemy commander choked as his lung was punctured by the lance, and Dimitri felt satisfaction as he tore his weapon back out. The bandits who witnesses it called for a retreat, but Ingrid and Seteth swooped above, taking out any stragglers that tried to escape. He cut down a lance user on his way back to where Byleth probably now was, at the back of the battlefield helping Mercedes heal their wounded. He saw the blood on the lance and wondered who it belonged to as he watched the rain wash the iron clean. Dismissing any guilt lingering in the back of his mind, all related to scenarios of his former friends being hurt and killed, he knew he couldn't stray from his path. Edelgard must be killed; that was the only truth he knew. The spirits following him would settle for no less.

He gripped his lance tighter and walked over the bodies strewn in the mud. It was impossible not to, after all, as the small field was nearly covered with them. The sunlight was now creeping through the heavy clouds and catching on the gleam of the fallen weapons, the dull glimmer from beaten up armor and- green hair? He pulled his foot back last minute, stumbling back from where he was about to step on a bleeding torso. It was so matted with blood and mud he almost mistook it for brown, but no- the light green was there, wisps stuck on his neck and plastered to the ground from where the body was face down on the ground. He dropped his lance to the side, kneeling and turning the body so he could see the face. It was the light tricking him, surely, there was no way-

Dimitri had to be sure it was just another rat, another bandit who'd been slain, not-

Byleth's face greeted him, the rain which was now barely a drizzle hardly helping clean away the caked dirt and congealed blood pouring from his nose and cuts on his face. His eyes were closed and- Dimitri tore off his glove with his teeth, pressing his fingers to the pulse point in his professor's neck. There was...nothing. No heartbeat, no- nothing.

"You've failed someone else." His step-mother's voice whispered in his ear, "You can't even blame this one on Edelgard. A pity."

"He was right behind you, and you didn't notice him fall." The flat disappointment of Glenn's voice chided him.

He felt like wretching, bile choking him as he dropped the body and screamed a horrible, cracking roar. It was choked with sobs, but he blamed the tears on his damp hair. He didn't cry, no, he was a beast. He had no right-

Someone pulled the body from his sight, he thinks he recognized Mercedes' boots, and he felt warm hands on his shoulders. They were shaking, he noted, not even really feeling his body anymore. It was all numb, all numb save the warmth of someone yanking his face up.

"He's alive boar-" Felix's voice cracked, "Damn it, Sylvain, help me!"

The dark knight practically fell from his mount to rush over to two of his childhood friends, taking Dimitri's other arm and helping Felix lift him. He tried to jerk away, but they held firm. Byleth wasn't alive- he had no pulse. There was nothing. Nothing. As blackness edged his vision he saw them put his professor's broken body on Ingrid's pegasus, Mercedes climbing on behind them both, already pushing faith magic into the would that had claimed Byleth's life. Why was she healing him? He was already dead- as dead as Dimitri's father and step-mother, as dead as Glenn, as dead as Dedue. As dead as Dimitri was inside, hollowed out and empty, wishing he could push his heartbeat into the professor's still chest. What was a beast without his keeper?

What was he without Byleth?

Darkness took him, that still and pale face swimming behind his eyelids, and he wished just this once that he had taken the offered hand so many weeks ago when he'd met one of his living ghosts.

_..._

When his eyes flew open, he was in a bed. Sitting up, feeling more than a little naked, his hand flew up to make sure the eyepatch was still in place. It was. 

His armor was stacked in the corner of the infirmary, and his undershirt had been cleaned for the first time in what was probably a year. It was sitting on a chair, folded, and he brushed the bandages on his side and chest with his hand. Pain lit up, sending sparks up and down his nerves that would have him wincing were he anyone else. He pushed the sheet away, glad they left him his pants, and stumbled up to put his shirt on and head straight for his armor. He froze when he pushed the chair aside and saw the bed next to him. Byleth laid, still as a corpse, and the memories crashed back into him like the roof had caved in. He collapsed by the bed on his knees, armor and lance laid forgotten in the corner, and reached up to brush his hand under the professor's jaw. Still no pulse, yet his chest rose and fell with each wheezing, painful breath that Byleth took. Dimitri didn't understand, didn't know how he was alive, but he hadn't been more thankful in the past five years than he was in that very moment. 

Byleth's hair had been washed, unlike his own. Dimitri could still feel it, laying oily against his neck, and figured none of them had wanted to bathe the beast. It was just as well; he wasn't like Byleth, didn't deserve the comforts they'd offered their professor. He was in clean linen pajamas, the top unbuttoned, and he could see the blood coming through in speckles on the bandages wrapped around his stomach.

He heard a quiet metal clattering and he twisted his head quickly, already rising and prepared to reach for his lance. 

It was only Mercedes.

"Dimitri!" She rushed forward as he wobbled slightly from his sudden movement, "You shouldn't be up! You had a nasty graze along your side and a chest wound that got infected!"

She gently pushed him onto the nearest surface, which happened to be the chair by Byleth's bed.

"It looked like it'd been healed but-" She cut herself off, biting her lip, "The professor was the only one near you, and his magic was severely depleted. That's part of the reason he's still sleeping; he exhausted himself. I'd say he couldn't fully heal either wound."

Dimitri barely recalled the battle, not after he found Byleth's body and dissolved into panic and anger, but guilt sat like a weight in his stomach. He hadn't noticed...Byleth had been right behind him, he thought as he remembered Glenn's words, and he hadn't even noticed him fall. 

"He had no heartbeat." Dimitri ground out, voice rough from disuse, "I felt for one."

"We...can't explain it." She averted her eyes, as if Dimitri had been looking in them anyways, "We don't know how he survived. No organs were punctured, but he lost so much blood and his magic-"

"Can you explain anything?" He snapped, cutting her off with a sneer.

He saw a flash of hurt run through her eyes, and the pit in his chest grew deeper. She only frowned at him, though, and reached for one of the cups on the tray.

"Drink this, please." She pushed it firmly into his hands, watching him with an expression both kind and firm, "We tried to bathe you, but you had fits in your sleep. Annie got your shirt off to wash it, and your armor and cape have been cleaned, but you'll need a bath."

He was caught off guard and hid it with a scoff. She crossed her arms and looked at him sternly, "You _will _be taking a bath."

Sneering, he downed the foul medicine and watched her closely as he hands lit up with a pale blue light, running them over Byleth's stomach and his hands. He could see marks flickering up Byleth's arms and fingers, white and thin, sprawling and branching like lightning. He leaned forward, examining them. They were slightly raised, much like scars would be, and an angry red around the edges.

"What happened?" He jerked his chin at them when he saw he had Mercedes' attention.

She seemed hesitant, but he stared at her until she gave in, "I told you his magic was depleted. He probably tried to use Thunder or Thoron after he was exhausted. When magic users overdo it with a certain spell, they get marks along their arms and fingers, a shadow of burning up their magic and forcing what's left out. The redness and swelling will fade, but the scars will remain."

His gut twisted but he remained quiet and she poured the medicine down Byleth's throat and made to leave.

"We're here if you need us, Dimitri." Her voice was quiet, "I know what you think, but we _are _still your friends. Sylvain and Felix carried you back to Garreg Mach, Ingrid was distraught, Annette and I...we all still care. We always have."

She hovered in the doorway, but after a few moments with no response, she disappeared down the hall. Dimitri sneered, looking at Byleth as his heart twisted violently in his chest. A beast had no need for friends, no need for their comforts, no need for their sweet words. He lived only for revenge, only to see Edelgard dead, then he could be slaughtered like the animal he was.

A beast had no need for friends. He lived only for revenge. He replayed those words in his head even as he dragged the chair up to the edge of Byleth's bed, the legs of it making a harsh scraping noise against the cold stone floor. He replayed those words as he took his former professor's hand and traced the delicate scars with a gentle touch, softer than he'd touched anything in a long time. 

He brushed a strand of hair behind the other man's ear.

A beast had no need for friends. He lived only for revenge.

He fell asleep pitched forward, half laying on the professor's legs, hand still gently curled around Byleth's.

_..._

All of the Blue Lions visited Byleth at least once a day. Annette and Mercedes brought sweets with them every time, and he pretended the disappointment in Annette's eyes when he ignored them didn't inflict pain worse than his own wounds. Being alone with his own mind, with his ghosts and demons, for two whole weeks took its toll on Dimitri. By refusing to leave Byleth's side the entire time, not even Manuela's snapping enough to make him go and bathe, he interacted a lot more with his former friends than he'd like. It brought up old emotions of a young man who died years ago. 

Early in the morning, Cyril usually visited before beginning his long list of chores. He would sit at Byleth's side, ignoring Dimitri save for a few narrow-eyed glares, a sack of hard candy in his lap.

"Annette and Mercedes helped me make it. I figured you'd like it since you always seem to carry some around. Or maybe you just do that for me...I never see you eat it. Either way, if you wanna try it, you gotta wake up." Cyril's voice grew choked, "I watered your flowers, too. Went in your office and tidied up some. You know you had a whole pile of dirty clothes, professor! I washed 'em for you, folded 'em nice on your bed. Your paperwork was a mess, too, so I sorted out the test forms."

He laughed, a sound that was hollow and reminiscent of Dimitri's own forced happiness in his youth. He'd laughed those laughs on holidays after his parents had passed, at festivals where he was required to smile but was dying inside. When Rodrigue would tell a joke and he didn't want to worry the man with his sadness. His heart twinged but he remained sitting in the corner as he often did during the day when others came to visit. 

Felix was the worst one to face, perhaps. Dimitri, despite claiming himself to be a beast, couldn't erase the sting of his best friend's hatred from his youth. It was as if that part of his heart couldn't be carved out, as if he'd taken a knife and cut everything else out, ever skilled with a blade, but those emotions, in particular, were tough and as stubborn as the one who'd caused them. 

The specter of his youth would usually just set and sharpen his blade with a whetstone, not saying a word before he'd get up and leave. One time, when Dimitri had spared the other man a glance, he saw a single tear roll down Felix's cheek as he worked. The most recent time, after he'd made it right past where Dimitri sat, he froze and turned. It was the first time since the incident that he'd even looked at Dimitri.

"If he dies, it's your fault." Felix's jaw was clenched, "He was chasing after _you_, protecting _you_. You're dragging all our friends into your reckless battles with the Empire on insufficient troops, roaring about Edelgard and her head-"

Dimitri sneered, opening his mouth, but Felix beat him to the punch.

"Enough!" The word cracked, and Felix's entire frame was trembling, "I know what you'll say. We all do. Well, except for Sylvain and Ashe. They still think...heh. You don't care. You don't care about them, or the professor, or anyone. That's why we'll all die in this useless war."

He was left frozen as the swordsman stalked from the room like an angry lion. Dimitri tried not to think about Ashe, who usually just ended up crying when he visited. Or Sylvain, who apparently still believed he...nevermind it. A beast had no need for friends. 

The next day would have him facing Annette indirectly, the ginger girl perched nervously by their professor's bed, hands fluttering in her lap.

"I tried helping Ashe in the kitchen. It didn't really work out well, I've learned a lot but not enough apparently." She gave out a nervous trill of a laugh, "I guess nothing beats...well, Dedue's cooking. He was always the best at it."

She sniffed sharply, leaning forward slightly and placing her face in her hands. Dimitri felt as though he'd been struck, the mere mention of Dedue's name enough to make his heart stutter and ache. She made a quiet keening noise, and he snuck a quick glance at her face before he turned away again. Tears were dribbling down her cheeks at a sluggish rate, patchy red splotches high on her cheeks and eyes pinched in pain.

"We agreed I'd try my best to relax sometimes but I just can't, professor. I feel like someone's turned my energy up to ten and if I sit still I feel like...I can't ignore everything. If I sit still it catches up with me. I've tried so hard, I really have, but-" She made a soft keening noise, rubbing her cheeks roughly, "We can't lose you, too. We _can't_."

He sat still, almost numb, as she walked out in a rush, breezing right past him and not sparing a single look back. He stood and closed the door firmly, practically collapsing into the chair she'd vacated, and cried. Ugly, quiet sobs. What he cried for, he wasn't sure. For Byleth, for Dedue...for his friends. Former friends. Dedue has always wanted him to be happy, wanted all the Blue Lions to be happy. He'd always been gentle teaching Annette and Ashe to cook, and then Flayn when she'd joined their house. He'd wanted to take Mercedes to see Duscur...Dimitri had been so...happy. When Dedue had told him that, he'd been so happy Dedue had found a place with people who accepted him. A place where Dimitri wouldn't always have to watch everyone with the eyes of a hawk to ensure there were no off-colored comments while he was around.

Mercedes...she would come like clockwork at breakfast, lunch, and dinner, bringing a soup easy to feed a comatose patient. Before she left, she would sit a second tray down at the table for Dimitri. An old recipe, one from Duscur. The thought of it made the sobs harsher, scratching his throat and tearing at his lungs.

He was going to kill them all, every last one of them. He had told Byleth before, that he'd use them till the flesh fell from their bones, but...could he, really? Could he watch Sylvain and Ingrid die? See Felix get struck down? His friends-no.

A _beast _had _no need _for friends.

Still, their chances at victory were already slim, he frantically rationalized through the tears. He could leave, spare them all the fate of dying like animals with him. He could leave then and there, never to be seen again. Go to Enbarr and avenge the dead or die trying. Instead, he kept Byleth's hand in a bruising grip as his shaking grew worse and the voices of spirits rose up around him. 

He gripped at his hair with one hand, the voices in his head reaching a roaring crescendo, and he wasn't sure how long he stayed like that. Long enough that the moon had risen and fallen, and sunlight crept through the windows once more.

_..._

Byleth didn't know where he was. He was floating in endless darkness, warm and content. He couldn't remember how he got there and he didn't know how to leave. He thought he could hear voices, sometimes, but now there was only...crying? It sounded like...

"Dima?" He whispered, hazy and confused.

The cries halted and he felt liquid, tears most likely, drip on his arm. He jolted slightly, eyes snapping open. Funny, he thought his eyes had been open.

The ceiling of the infirmary greeted him, and he turned his head to blearily see Dimitri himself sitting at his bedside, cheeks flushed red and face still wet. He didn't know why he was crying, surely not because Byleth had been sleeping? It was all still foggy, but when he saw Dimitri push the chair back and begin to stand, he flung his hand out to grab his wrist, pulling him back. The action and strength behind it seemed to startle the prince, who looked down at him with a wide, blue eye. The sudden movement jolted him slightly, sending a sharp pain from his stomach to the very edges of his fingertips.

"Stay." He gasped out, coughing as his throat ached from disuse.

"...What?" Dimitri practically breathed out, freezing under his touch.

Byleth swallowed, forcing back tears as his free hand gripped the wound. The battle, he'd been following Dimitri, he'd been stabbed...

The crying made sense, all of a sudden.

"I said stay." Byleth huffed out, "I wantyou to stay."

The other man gave a confused sneer, trying to pull his arm away again. It jerked Byleth's hand and he grunted again from the movement yanking his body forward but refused to let go. Dimitri frowned and stopped moving, looking down at Byleth in what the professor thought was guilt.

"I'm hurting you." Dimitri whispered, "I...hurt you. Before, and now. In more ways than I can-"

He stopped suddenly, nearly breathless, and pursed his lips.

Byleth froze, blinking up at the blond. He smiled, shaky, and said, "That's okay."

"It's not."

"It is. You're...dealing with things. Not in a way I agree with, and not in a healthy way. No matter what you believe, though, you're still Dimitri."

"That doesn't make it right." The prince turned his face away, heinous guilt warping his features, "I'm leaving. For Enbarr. I'll...go tonight. I won't have you killed for my war."

"Your war is my war, you ridiculous man. All of your friends would say the same." Byleth huffed, laying back against his pillow and shimmying over to one side. He tugged once, softly, at Dimitri's hand to let him know to follow.

"You're injured. Stop moving." The prince snapped, volume raising slightly.

Byleth only raised an eyebrow, "Stop speaking nonsense. Then I'll stop moving."

"Nonsense-" The other man sputtered quietly for a moment, "I'm leaving. I told you."

Byleth snorted, "See? Nonsense. I'll put up with a lot from you, but this is where I draw the line."

Dimitri grew contemplatively quiet once more and Byleth feared he'd misspoken, "You shouldn't, though."

"What? Put up with a lot?" The professor sighed again, wearier this time, "Fetch me a glass of water and all is forgiven."

The other man seemed to have nothing in response and simply poured a glass, handing it over. He remained quiet.

"Are you going to get in the bed or not? I mean, if you don't want to, that's fine. I'm assuming you slept in that chair instead of another one of the other perfectly good beds in this room, though."

"I'll hurt you again." 

Byleth took a long look at him, a sad blue eye and oily hair and an eyepatch and...just, Dimitri. He seemed more vulnerable than Byleth had ever seen him except for scarce glances of it back during the Academy. He reached out for Dimitri's hand again, not taking it but waiting for him to reach out as well. 

_..._

Dimitri stared at the hand. So many times Byleth had offered it, only to be rebuffed by none other than Dimitri himself. Yet, the professor was persistent, and Dimitri had wished weeks ago that he'd taken his hand before. So he reached out, took the hand that was now familiar after two weeks of cradling it gently at night, and allowed himself to be led to the bed. He laid perched at the edge, scared to touch the professor for fear of hurting him worse, but Byleth shifted with only a slight wince and laid his head on Dimitri's shoulder. He tensed but didn't deny that it felt...right.

"Is this okay?" Byleth glanced up at him, green eyes open and honest and yes, Dimitri thought, he loved this man.

"Fine." He grunted out instead, leaning his own head against Byleth's.

The professor let out a soft breath, sounding nearly contented. Could beasts love? Because he loved Byleth. If the past two weeks had taught him anything it had been that. If beasts couldn't love, if they had no need for friends, if he only lived for revenge...if those things were all lies, what was left for him to live for?

"How long has it been?" Byleth's voice was sad, and the prince was reminded that he'd once lost five years sleeping.

"Only two weeks."

Byleth nodded against his shoulder.

Maybe he could live for this. The ghosts were quieter when Byleth was around and every inch of skin that touched his felt alive. He...could be content with that. Happy even. 

"You shouldn't have to protect me in battle. Don't do it again." Dimitri said finally, because the words needed to be spoken.

"I'll do it again if I have to." Byleth muttered against the larger man's shoulder.

"Not where I can't see you." Dimitri choked on the words slightly, swallowing down more tears, "Not when-"

Byleth only hushed him, his thumb rubbing circles on the back of Dimitri's hand.

"Why do you care for me?" He bit the inside of his cheek until he tasted blood, "Why...why when I'm..."

"I just do." Byleth sighed, breath warm against the prince's neck.

"It's dreadful. Caring for me, that is."

"I'd disagree. It's not for me. I...you mean a lot to me, Dima." Byleth smiled, Dimitri knew from the feel of his curved lips against his skin. He only slid his arm around the Professor, holding him with an almost non-existent grip as if he were made of porcelain.

Maybe all he believed was a lie, or maybe it wasn't. Beast or not, he needed Byleth. He loved him. He couldn't bear to speak the words out loud, not after all he'd done. Not when the mouth that would claim affection and sweet words had been so harsh to him previously, not until after that vile woman was dead and they could know peace. Not...before Dimitri found peace within himself. One day, though, he promised himself he would. He would hold those scarred hands and tell Byleth that he loved him more than his ghosts and his demons, and that he wanted to live with him until they passed themselves.

_..._

_I'm coming back_

_if that's alright_

_with you_

**Author's Note:**

> This doc was originally titled 'fuck me up fam' on my laptop. I think you know why. Also, shout out to that Euripides reference at the end. If you know what play that's from we're, like, automatically friends.
> 
> Hope you guys enjoyed this! It caused me physical pain so I hope it might've tugged on your heart strings a bit.


End file.
